


Buttercups on My Skin

by JaskiersWolf



Series: Geraskier Prompts - For adults [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, Dom/sub Undertones, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Love Bites, M/M, Marking, Non-Graphic Smut, Possessive Jaskier | Dandelion, Public Masturbation, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29843904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaskiersWolf/pseuds/JaskiersWolf
Summary: Geralt's mind wanders as he watches Jaskier perform
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Prompts - For adults [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181423
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98





	Buttercups on My Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElectricRituals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricRituals/gifts).



Jaskier's voice was weaving magic throughout the tavern. The usually rowdy patrons had fallen silent as the bard warbled a heart wrenching ballad of unrequited love. The tune achingly beautiful as Jaskier cried out, he never lost his tune but Geralt could hear the wails of heartbreak.

He’d been the one to cause them. 

This song still hurt them both, but it was popular and it brought in coin. Geralt shifted in his seat, focussing his senses so he could block out the song. He wasn’t watching Jaskier for the songs. He knew them as well as the bard did, possibly better, although his skill was lacking. No, he watching Jaskier for the simple pleasure of admiring his beauty. 

There was nothing more radiant than Jaskier mid-performance, owning the room with his natural charm and charisma, seducing everyone out of their coin. He was something else. 

But now he was also Geralt’s. 

Pushing Jaskier away hadn’t numbed his feelings for the bard in the slightest, if anything it had made them stronger, a dull never-ending ache where there should be light, should be Jaskier. Months later, and several days grovelling for Jaskier’s forgiveness, they were finally together. 

Geralt still struggled to believe it was real somedays but Jaskier found ways to remind him. Bruises healed quickly but there was rarely a morning where Geralt didn’t wake up with dark marks on his neck, trailing down his shoulder, along his collar bone. Geralt swallowed and took a long gulp of his ale, his mouth felt too dry as he remembered with painful clarity how Jaskier looked between his legs, hair tousled, cheeks flushed as he bit the tender skin of Geralt’s thighs. 

The promise of more, each bite closer to Geralt’s aching cock. He groaned as he blinked back into the room. 

“Fuck,” he growled. His trousers were suddenly too tight to be decent. He wouldn’t be able to move without anyone noticing his predicament. He tried to focus back on Jaskier’s performance but it didn’t help. If anything it made it worse. His vision seemed to centre on Jaskier’s hands, every note plucked from the lute was suddenly pure torture, each movement of Jaskier’s fingers made his rings glisten in the candlelight.

Two of the bands had a wolf engraved on the flat of the metal, similar in style to Geralt’s medallion. Jaskier never took them off, he preened and showed them off to anyone who would stay still enough to listen, but it was the other three rings that captured Geralt’s attention, golden and embossed with buttercups, each design slightly different in style. 

Geralt stared, entranced by Jaskier’s hands, mind feeling hazy in the middle of the tavern, memories flooding him unbidden. Geralt could feel every caress of Jaskier’s fingers against the lute strings, remembering the care Jaskier took to stretch him. Jaskier never rushed, not even when they were both desperate and clawing at each other’s clothes, Jaskier never rushed, making sure Geralt felt every single finger as it pumped inside him, scissoring, stretching him until he was ready for Jaskier’s cock. 

Geralt swore under his breath, as he palmed himself through his trousers, too weak to ignore it any longer. He ached. Jaskier’s performance couldn’t end soon enough. It was the best kind of torture. The song was happier now, more upbeat, lively. Jaskier danced around the room like a fae in their court. He was magical, and Geralt was under his spell. 

Jaskier feet stomped on the bench in rhythm with his music, creating a percussion accompaniment to rouse the audience. Geralt counted each thump of Jaskier’s foot under his breath, 

“One,” he muttered, desperately resisting the urge to unlace his trousers. In his memory Jaskier’s hands landed firmly on his arse, sharp and stinging pain where the rings hit his naked skin. 

The buttercups that lasted longer than bruises, clear signs of who Geralt belonged to. He was Jaskier’s as much as Jaskier was his. 

“Two,” another beat in the music, another phantom hit. 

He wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes off Jaskier. 

“Three.”

Jaskier spun round in a circle, their gaze met across the room. Jaskier’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. He winked with a knowing smirk and launched into the next line. 

“Four…” Geralt gasped, his mug splintered and burst in his hands. He hadn’t realised he’d been gripping it so tightly. Jaskier’s fingers slipped on his lute, but he carried on to finish the song, ignoring his mistake, tossing a withering glare in Geralt’s direction. 

By the time Jaskier had finished the song Geralt was across the room. The bard barely had time to thank the audience before Geralt had picked him up and thrown him over his shoulder. The innkeeper could collect the coin. Jaskier had more important things to attend to. 

“Right, well… that’s all for tonight,” Jaskier sang cheerily, his lute knocking against Geralt’s back “you have been delightful, really quite splendid but well, I can’t say no to my White Wolf now, can I?”

Geralt felt a swell of pride in his chest. _My White Wolf_. Jaskier was so casually admitting to the entire inn that Geralt was his. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](https://jaskierswolf.tumblr.com/)
> 
> \- Wolfie


End file.
